The Fade into Black
by Alphie
Summary: What happened behind the closed door? Missing moments from the Kay novel.
1. Declaration

_AN: I wanted to take a moment to introduce myself to the Phandom here. I've been involved in fanfiction in Superman, Harry Potter, Twilight for over 10 years and have read tons of other fics from various areas mainly Star Trek, Star Wars, and Hunger Games. I've been obsessed with Phantom off and on since I saw the musical in Toronto back in 1991 with Colm Wilkinson. I literally fell in love with the music and with the story. Around the same time there was a miniseries with Charles Dance as Erik that I taped and watched over and over again. Imagine my shock when I saw another Phantom musical with the same story line as the miniseries. I went with another phanatic to see the movie in 2004 and we both agreed that Erik was not... Erik. But it still rekindled some of the love I have for the character. Years pass and I find myself watching a 25th anniversary special with my 10 year old music loving son. It was the first time I heard Ramin Kiramloo sing and once again I fell for Erik. I investigated more and discovered Love Never Dies and Phantom by Susan Kay. And then I came to phan fiction. I have found some real gems here in the PotO phandom and don't know how well my take on things will go over, but I simply have to get this out of my head. _

_Now you know my Phan history. I've read Leroux, but if you are a Leroux purist then my fic isn't for you. This fic is a combination of things. It's MOSTLY a big missing moment from the Kay novel with a tip of the hat to Webber's lyrics. This begins after Erik has set Christine free to marry Raoul. For the record, I do like Raoul. But Erik doesn't and this is his PoV. Please be kind as this is my first Phan Phic. I've been reading a lot and there are some AMAZING ones on here. And if I've posted in the wrong place or used the wrong category, I apologize in advance. I've seen some pretty testy reviews about mislabeled Phics that makes me very nervous to even share this with anyone! But I have to get it out of my head. _

_Many thanks to Erik'sTrueAngel for the beta read! And to __T'eyla Minh for pointing out the Americanisms._

_And I promise that my author's notes from here out will not be this long! I just wanted to introduce myself to everyone. I hope you enjoy my take on things._

**Declaration**

It's the silence that troubles me. I've lived in darkness for so long that I've come to rely on sound as my main sense. But life is so silent now that it's very nearly deafening.

I made plenty of sound while I was destroying the various bits of clutter that filled this black expanse I referred to as my home. The noise of things breaking, glass shattering, and fabric ripping was so thunderous I expected someone above to hear and come down to look for me. I waited until the opera house was sure to be empty before I went to work on my organ. What once was my favorite place to sit, a place where such beauty had been created, held nothing but tortuous memories for me now.

Only Christine's room went untouched. I couldn't bear to destroy anything that had been hers. I walked in there with the intention of demolishing everything in sight, but found my fingers brushing over the trinkets at her grooming table and fondling the clothing that still smelled of her fragrance. I even lay down in the bed where she had slept and burrowed my hideous face into the pillow that had once cradled her lovely head. It was pure torture to be there knowing she would never again set foot in the room. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to destroy it. I deserved the torture.

Several silent days had passed since the last piece of furniture had been over turned and the last vase shattered. However, there was little rest for the wicked. The seizures that plagued my life in the last year had become nearly a daily nuisance. They grew in severity, wreaking havoc on my already tormented body. I took solace in the fact that my miserable existence would soon come to an end. But there was still one slice of unfinished business which needed resolution.

Nadir was working out all the details for me. I trusted him, which was uncommon for me. Yet, I had no other choice. I could not go to the lawyers myself. My fortune had always been held by my own hands, kept out of the national banks which were subject to failure. Now, I was not only trusting him will my fortune but with Christine's future. Regardless of what that wretched boy had said, I didn't trust that he would always have the means to keep her in the fashion which she deserved. Most importantly, though, was that I wanted the fund in her name and her name only. I may have granted the Vicomte the honor of marrying Christine because I knew it was what she desired, but I would be damned if he would end up with my money as well. It wasn't greed that spawned this in me, but rather my overwhelming need to make certain Christine would always have means to take care of herself. _I_ could guarantee that. The Vicomte could not.

The paperwork will be in tomorrow, and then I will be free. Free from this nightmarish existence. Free from the heartache of loving so deeply and not having that love ever returned. Free from the darkness that has always consumed me. Free from this weakening body. Free from this wretched face.

I often wondered what that would be like – to be normal. What is it like to look at your reflection in the mirror and not feel bile rise in your throat? I would never know, of course. I would at least have the satisfaction of leaving this body behind to rot in the dirt. Once I signed the papers and Christine's future was secured, I would willingly give up the ghost.

No pun intended.

Yet I still had to wait. I chose to spend my last few hours in the one place that still held a trace of beauty for me. I lay in the bed that had been Christine's and imagined her life. She would be the most beautiful bride, even if her husband was a spoiled child. She would give him perfect children. The idea of that horrid boy stealing away her innocence and spilling himself inside her body made me want to vomit. However, Christine would be an adoring, wonderful mother in spite of the obnoxious brat that would father her children. Most importantly, Christine would have a glorious singing career. Thousands of patrons would take delight in the joy the sound her voice would bring to them. Through her voice and her music I would live on in some small way.

As I lay there wishing I could let Death's icy fingers squeeze the life out me, I heard the sound of an Angel in the distance. I had to be imagining things because an Angel had no business in Hell. Yet, there it was; a soft, lilting voice that resonated from Heaven. A sound that made my heart stutter and sent a shiver down my spine. I opened my eyes searching for the source of the sound and found the chamber to be just as dark and empty as ever. However, the sound coming from the other side of the door was unmistakable.

_Christine._

It was a trick. It had to be. Death was teasing me, taunting me, torturing me. What other explanation could there be? In my last moments of life, Death was reminding me of everything I had lost. Of everything that was never ever really mine.

I clawed my way out of the foggy mental state into which I had drifted. My hearing sharpened and honed in on the gentle, feminine pitch teasing at my ear and coming from beyond the door. A low baritone intertwined with the soprano.

_Nadir._

Whatever they were debating came to a swift end with Christine rising as the victor. I know this because hers was the last voice I heard before the door opened. It was her shapely figure silhouetted in the doorway. It was her pensive eyes that sought my own through the darkness.

With every step she took towards me my heart rate increased. I blinked several times expecting my vision to clear and for her to vanish from my sight. It wasn't until her smooth, warm hand came to rest on top of mine that I knew for certain I was wide awake and this was not a dream.

"Nadir said you weren't well," she said softly.

I opened my mouth to reply and found that my voice had left me.

She smiled and patted the side of the bed. "May I sit down next to you?"

In answer, I shifted slightly to the side to allow her some room.

"I've missed you. It's been dreadful living every day without you."

I blinked again, certain I hadn't heard her correctly. "That's impossible," I muttered in my confusion.

"Why is it impossible? All this time you have been my teacher, my mentor, my Angel. You found something in me that I didn't know I could possess. I owe you so much. To have that source of inspiration ripped away from me was…" She sighed. "I have felt so empty without your voice guiding me."

Any other man as desperately in love as I was would have been pleased to hear the woman he longed for admit she longed to be with him as well. However, I am no ordinary man. What I heard her say was that I had possessed her and haunted her so completely that she was unable to function normally without my command. She had come here for guidance and instruction. She still needed me to tell her what to do. In fact, I could probably tell her to go and jump off a cliff and she would! A few weeks ago I would have rejoiced in the knowledge that she was so far under my spell. Now, it just made me hate myself even more. I didn't want her to be an automaton. I wanted her to be a woman with her own free will.

"Christine, you cannot rely on me anymore. You must rely on yourself."

"I have," she smiled. "That's why I am here. Don't you see? The whole time I've known you, you've been my guide. You've told me what to sing, and I performed accordingly. You told me what I should do, and I did it. You even told me to leave you, and I left. I did it all in blind obedience without thinking. These past weeks I have been waiting for you to come to me. I've been waiting for you to find me and tell me to return. But you didn't, and I was left stumbling about with Raoul as my guide. It wasn't until he forbade me to bring you the wedding invitation that I knew what I had to do – what I wanted to do."

At the mention of her fiancé's name, I shifted away from her. She had only come here to deliver the invitation, as she had promised. An invitation stating how she would happily marry that imbecilic young man whose only claim over her was his handsome face and worldly title. "He was wise to tell you not to come. Were I him, I wouldn't have allowed you to come either."

"But that's just it. I don't care what you want me to do. I don't care what Raoul wants me to do. It's what I _have_ to do – what my heart _needs_ me to do. That's why I'm here. I had to see you again. I had to make sure you understood the truth."

"And what truth is that?" I asked, bitterly.

After a thunderous moment of silence, she uttered the very last thing I ever thought I would hear fall from her perfect lips.

"That I love you."


	2. Invitation

_AN: I don't normally post things this quickly, but I think I need to give you a bit more of a look at where this is going. So here is part 2! _

_Many thanks to Erik'sTrueAngel for the beta read, to __T'eyla Minh for pointing out the Americanisms,__ and to lks358 for my ONE REVIEW! And to Vampire Idrial for putting it on alert. Hey, at least someone is reading! I hope you enjoy where this eventually goes. I will not be updating again for at least a week as my children have about a hundred things going on for the end of school, and no, that's not an exaggeration! _

**Invitation**

Christine's words echoed in the quiet room. Her declaration was astounding and unfathomable. Her mind had become so completely corrupted by my incessant commands that she no longer knew what she was saying. She loved me? Never. No woman in their right mind could, or ever would, love a man such as me.

"Christine, I'm going to try to forget what you just said," my voice rasped. "You're not thinking clearly."

"I beg to differ. For the first time since I met you, Erik, I'm thinking very clearly. I've done a great deal of thinking, actually, as I've tried to understand everything that has passed between us - as I've tried to better understand the reasons behind your actions."

I glowered at her. "You're trying to justify my reasons for behaving like a monster?"

"You're not a monster, Erik, and I'd like to destroy the person who first told you that you were!" Her voice was piercing, demanding. "_That_ is what I have come to understand. I have deeply considered what kind of life you must have known. Being who you are with your talent and your intelligence, your creativity, your...genius..."

I shook my head at her unwarranted compliments. "I'm just an ugly, hateful man, Christine."

"But you're not!" she insisted. "Hateful, yes, because of the way you have been treated, but you can't deny that you are capable of love as well!"

I stared up at her beautiful face as her eyes pleaded with mine. "I may be capable of love, but my ability to express it is severely lacking."

"Only because you've never been given the opportunity to express it," she said, lacing her fingers with mine in a manner that suggested more to me than her innocent mind intended. "And Erik, I don't think you are ugly."

My frustration, both mental and physical, was reaching a breaking point. I bellowed at her, "How can you, who have seen my face, say that I am not ugly?"

"Because I have seen into your soul!"

I barked a laugh at her and snatched my hand away. "Save your imaginative poems for the Vicomte and your wedding night."

She went blank suddenly and stared down at my face with wide eyes. Quietly, she repeated, "I do not think you are ugly, Erik."

Just as softly, I said, "And I do not think you mean what you say. You're under a spell, Christine. A spell I placed you under out of my selfish, lustful desires. You're only saying this because you think it's what _I_ want to hear - because I _told_ you to feel this way. So, listen to me now. You're free, Christine. I release you. Go. Return to your home, to your fiancé. Be done with this place. Be done with me."

Her lips formed a hard line. "No."

"No? "

"No. If I were truly under your spell, I would leave here, just as you said. But you see, Erik, I am not under any sort of spell. I am here of my own free will. I choose this." She touched my hand again. "I choose _you_."

I stayed very still as I contemplated her argument. She was very right. If I did have control over her, she would have stood up and walked out of here when I first demanded it. The fact that she was still here presented a conundrum. More confusing was the way she lightly stroked her fingers over my hand, the way she smiled warmly down at me and held on to my eyes. The feel of her hip resting against my leg as she sat next to me on the bed. The way she leaned over me, letting ringlets of her hair fall around her shoulders. I was suddenly over come with the enormity of the situation. Her presence, her words, and my increasing desire to believe that it was all real and not a game of make-believe sent my mind spinning.

"Christine…" I started. "I… don't… understand." I felt foolish admitting it, but were I to put my assumptions into words I just might frighten the poor girl to death.

"I brought you something that might help explain things." She reached down into a bag that until now had gone completely unnoticed. She obviously had brought it in with her, but its contents were a mystery to me. What she handed me, however, was very recognizable. Even in the dark I could tell from the shape and weight of the parchment that it was a wedding invitation.

Her wedding invitation.

To that insolent boy.

I sighed, eternally grateful that I hadn't said a word about how I interpreted her words to mean she wanted more from me than just a final visit. For that's plainly what she wanted. Now that I held the proof of her intentions in my hand, I knew she had come here of her own free will to tell me that she cared for me but was still going to marry her Vicomte.

"Aren't you going to read it?" she asked.

I would die were I to read it in front of her. "I'll look at it later. Thank you."

"But I want you to read it now. Please?" Her voice was almost childlike in its request.

Against my better judgment, I nodded and began opening the card.

Christine jumped up, "Here, let me light a candle so you can see it properly."

Wonderful. She wanted to be certain I saw her name printed next to his. And in the light she would have a better view of my reaction. Thank God for the mask. Perhaps she won't see my complete revulsion. I only hoped I could refrain from gagging for her sake.

With the candle lit, I could better see that Christine was dressed in a pale, cream colored gown. Her eyes reflected the glow of the flame as did the blush on her skin. She truly was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and she was forcing me to read a statement announcing how she intended to join her life with that of a moronic brat. I forced down my disgust and read the words printed on the paper.

Announcing the Marriage of

Mademoiselle Christine Daae

To

Monsieur Erik

On this the 15th day of May,

Eighteen Hundred and Eighty

5:30 pm

At the Palais Garnier

I blinked. And blinked again. My eyes were deceiving me. In my weakened state, the words were so unclear that my mind was interpreting the text incorrectly. I closed my eyes tight and then refocused on the page, rereading over the words that had to be part of a game.

"What do you think?" Christine asked shyly. "I wrote it out myself. Hand written and delivered just as you requested."

I looked up at her, still utterly confused by the invitation. "I think… this says that…" I swallowed and reread it again to be sure I wasn't mistaken. "This says… that you… and I…" My words were completely running dry.

"I'm slightly early," she said, lowering her eyes. "It's just barely five o'clock. I hope you don't mind. I couldn't wait any longer to see you." She hesitantly rested her hand on my leg, and my body responded to the full weight of her touch even through the blankets.

She smiled fully, brightly, before standing up and carrying her bag to the bureau. I watched in rapt attention as she flitted around the room, dabbing perfume behind her ear and pulling a simple wedding veil from her case and fitting it upon her head. She faced me but for a moment, and my breath hitched at the sight of her excitement. Then she opened the door to the room and called for Nadir.

"Would you be so kind as to stand witness for us?"

"Witness? To what?" It was only after he asked the question that he took in Christine's appearance.

She reached for his hand and led him into the room. "You, sir, are to be the most distinguished guest at our wedding."

Nadir looked at me for direction, but I offered none. I only watched Christine's delicate movements as she returned to me and resumed her position sitting on the bed. I should have stopped her, of course. I should have raged at her for teasing me in such a fashion. However, I was powerless to resist. Even as she reached behind my head for the ties of my mask, I didn't prevent her from doing so.

The candlelight flickered in the underground room. Christine sat clothed in a wedding dress and veil, eager and radiant. I lay in my bed clothes, defenseless and silent. Her face was hopeful as she removed my mask and smiled at me. The moment was both beautiful and monstrous, a silent wish being granted just by her presence. My heart hammered in my chest in anticipation as she leaned in closer to me.

And then she kissed me.


	3. Affirmation

_AN: Many thanks to Erik'sTrueAngel for the beta read again and for leaving a review! To __T'eyla Minh for pointing out the Americanisms. __ Also to KryssLaBryn, You Are Love, and Aleta Gracy for leaving reviews for chapter 2. I hope you enjoy this next bit as well. _

_As you know, in the Kay version of the story Erik and Christine share a lot more than just a kiss. Given that I'm atempting to fill in that missing moment, there will be a rating change very soon. I'm not sure if it will be next chapter or the 5th chapter, but by chapter 5 it will be necessary. Consider this your official heads up!_

**Affirmation**

Her lips pressed gently against my forehead, feather light and yet still affectionate. And then another kiss, this time on my right temple with slightly more pressure. And another kiss on my right cheek. She planted kisses all along the side of my monstrous face, growing bolder and they drifted down towards my mouth. A shudder came over me in expectation, and I willed my body to remain still. But the kiss I longed for never came. Instead, she started the whole series over again, this time her lips brushing over the left side of my face. Tender and soft, she made sure not one place on my wretched face went unnoticed by her perfect lips. Except for my own lips. Those she did not kiss, and I found myself ready to weep from the want of it. It wasn't until she dropped kisses on my eyes that I realized my thoughts had been betrayed by my tears. She swept them away with a few more of her compassionate kisses.

Never in my life had I been touched in such a way. Yes, she had kissed me once before, but as passionate as that moment had been, I was left wondering if she had done so merely out of self preservation. These kisses, however, were freely given. They weren't arduous in nature, but truly loving out of kindness. It was a kindness with which I was unfamiliar. A kindness that left me breathless by its very offering. The candle light was still flickering. She could see me well enough. She had purposefully removed my mask, and she chose to kiss me, not just once but repeatedly. No one, not even my own mother, had been able or willing to offer this kindness to me. Even still, my heart had difficulty accepting the full meaning of her kisses, for as profound as it was to have her kissing my face, I was acutely aware that my lips were left untouched.

Satisfied with her sweet ministrations, she sat up and serenely smiled down at me. She took hold of both of my hands and exhaled deeply. "Now that I can properly see you, I think it's time to begin."

She looked at me expectedly, as if I were supposed to speak next. But before I could question her and make sure I was reading the situation correctly, she spoke again. "I'll start, shall I? Even though it isn't traditional, I don't mind going first."

I nodded, but to what I was agreeing, I wasn't exactly certain. All doubt was wiped away with her next words.

"I, Christine, take thee, Erik, to be my husband." There was no hesitation. None what so ever. And her smile widened as she continued. "I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

My heart pounded in my chest. I had imagined her saying those words to me hundreds of times, but never did I think such a dream would ever come to fruition. Yet at the same time, this wasn't the situation for which I had hoped. Having her dressed in such a beautiful gown, saying such meaningful words while I lay on a bed in a dark, underground chamber dressed in my night clothes seemed utterly ludicrous. She deserved better. She deserved a church wedding. And a handsome groom. Preferably one that stood upright. And had a face. I couldn't offer her the church or the handsome groom with a face. Those, alas, were beyond my reach. But I could at least sit up. I wasn't dead. Yet. The arousal I had felt from the moment she had entered the room was proof that I was very much alive.

Slowly, I lifted myself up into a sitting position. Christine and Nadir both jumped to help in my efforts. Not wanting to appear so feeble and weak in front of my bride, I shook off their hands and did it alone. Honestly, I wasn't so ill that I couldn't move on my own! Willing your body to die was very different from actually dying, wasn't it? The wish I had to die just a few moments ago was not as great as my new found desire to live.

Once I was sitting up, I focused my eyes again on Christine but directed my words to Nadir. "My friend, the little black box on the bureau. Will you give it to me, please?" I held out a hand in which Nadir placed the item I had requested. I opened it and humbly offered the gold band to Christine. As I slid the ring into place on her third finger, her hand stayed remarkable steady. My hand, however, trembled and I nearly dropped the tiny band. But it was my voice that trembled the most as I repeated the vows.

"I, Erik, take thee, Christine, to be..." I swallowed hard, still in disbelief that I was saying the words, "..._my wife_." Christine's bright smile and loving squeeze of my hands encouraged me to continue. "I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life." However long that might be.

The heavy stillness that followed was difficult to bare. There was no officiator to remind me that I had the right to kiss my bride. As if I needed reminding. As if I needed to be told. I wanted to kiss her. Desperately! More to the point, I wanted her to kiss me. She had come to me. She had written the invitation. She placed a veil on her own head. She spoke the vows first. This wasn't my doing. Thus, it stood to reason that she should kiss me! If she was truthful in her vows and honest in her intentions, then _she_ should kiss _me_! The longer I waited for her to make a move the more my frustration grew.

I was on the verge of snapping at her when at last - _at long last_ - she leaned in and brushed a sweet but fleeting kiss across my lips. She kept her face close to mine as she whispered, "I love you," and then touched my lips again. The pressure of this second kiss was more solid and sure, but it was still painfully innocent. The passion that had been present weeks ago in our previous kiss seemed to be curiously absent. Well, at least on her part. I would always feel passionately towards Christine. I would hardly be a man if I didn't have a physical response to her touch!

To my great disappointment, she stood then and turned to face Nadir, who wore an expression of both worry and resignation. It was the first time I allowed myself to look at something other than my beautiful Christine. He followed her with uncertain steps as she led him to the door.

"Thank you, Nadir," she said. "I don't believe we will be needing anything further this evening."

"Mademoiselle?" His eyes searched her face for clarity.

"I would like some time alone with my husband," she explained before offering one final correction. "And it's Madame now."

Nadir's eyes met mine again. I'm sure he wanted me to insist that he should stay - that it wasn't wise for Christine to be alone with me - but I couldn't refuse her. And so without a word of argument, Nadir left the room. Christine closed the door behind him and slowly turned around to look at me.

"Well, my husband, what should we do first?"

My breath hitched at word "husband" and the implication of her question sent my mind spinning. "The fact that you are here with me is more than enough," I managed.

"Are you tired? Do you need to rest?" she said stepping forward.

"I have rested enough," I said. "I would like to hear you sing once more."

Her smile was pure as she said, "I would be happy to sing for you, if that is what you truly wish."

"Of course. You're voice is what gives me strength - it's what keeps my heart beating." I spoke as truthfully as I could. However it wasn't her voice but rather the fact that she was now standing next to the bed once more that made my heart race.

"Your voice has a similar effect on me." Her eyes were shy as she said, "But it wasn't a song I was hoping to share with you this night."

Again she implied something that forced all other thoughts from my mind. She had to be teasing me. Had to be! I was a hideous monster, and no matter how much she wished to please me, she couldn't mean what her words suggested. She was too innocent to even know what they suggested.

I sighed and pulled my gaze away from her, dropping my repulsive head to hide the hope that might be reflected in my eyes. "Christine, a song is more than I - "

"Erik," she interrupted. "I really don't wish to sing right now. I don't think I could. I'd much rather..." she took a deep breath in the way people do when they are steadying themselves. I mentally prepared for the worst. "I'd rather rest... with you."

"Rest?" I repeated.

"Yes. With you." To be sure I understood, she pointed to the bed. "Next to you."


	4. Flirtation

_AN: Thanks go to Erik'sTrueAngel for the beta read again. Thank you to You Are Love, Eriksangelofmusic4ever, and Kryss LaBryn for leaving reviews for the last chapter and to The Golden Phoenix Song, JondretteGirl, poegrrll, and Rupert Bear for putting it on a fav list or on alert. It means so so much to a writer in a new fandom to be able to find some followers who enjoy their work! Thank you for reading. _

_Again, a rating change will be coming. I just sent chapter 5 to the beta, so I actually think I won't need to change until chapter 6 (hint hint), but we will see what the beta says! _

**Flirtation**

Eyes locked, we simply stared at each other. I was in disbelief. She seemed to be... curious? Hopeful? I was certain I was seeing things. I was seeing what I wanted to see, not what really was. The mind can play horrible tricks on those who are open to the power of suggestion. I know this as fact because I have used it so very often in my deceitful dealings with humanity. Given what Christine was suggesting, I had to assume my own mind was currently misinterpreting things.

"You wish to lie... next to me?" I said in a surprisingly steady voice.

She nodded and turned her back to me. "If you would help me first though, I would appreciate it." She pulled her hair to the side revealing her pale, bare shoulders and the back of her gown.

"Help you...?" I couldn't finish.

"With the buttons," she nearly whispered.

I gave it a moment's pause before looking away. Shaking my head in uncertainty I said, "This is insanity, my dear. I do not want your pity, nor do I expect you to carry on this charade any further. Please, refrain from−"

But it was I who had to refrain from talking, for when I chanced a glance back up at her, she had stood and maneuvered herself into a position where she could undo her own buttons. The back of her gown was open and I could clearly see the top of her corset.

Stunned by the revelation of both her suggestive words and her flawless skin, I quickly turned away from her and covered my eyes. "What are you doing?" I asked in a fury.

"Making myself more comfortable," she answered calmly, as if she were doing nothing more than discussing the weather! "You men have no idea how very restricting a corset can be."

I felt my face flush with heat at the mention of her under clothing. First she dared to show them to me and then she openly spoke about it! Her virtuousness and naiveté where intimacy was concerned was shockingly alluring. I was certain she hadn't any clue as to what she was doing to me at the very moment. If she was aware, then she was being devastatingly cruel to undress near a man who would rip the clothes from her body were he offered the chance.

"You should not... " I started to warn her. "You should go into a changing room."

"This _is _my room," she said.

"Then you should use the dressing screen!" My frustration was being exposed through my temper.

"But why? I am your wife, now. It's not inappropriate, is it? I would think you would be angry were I to hide myself from you."

Again with her unintentionally evocative words! "It_ is_ inappropriate!" I insisted. "You could very well be ruined by this, Christine!"

"And how would I be ruined? Is a wife ruined when she is alone with her husband?"

Yes, she had said the words. Yes, I had repeated them back to her. But that didn't mean... She was merely being kind to the monster who had never known such kindness. She might use words like _husband_ and _wife_ so easily, but I wasn't so foolish to assume those words meant she was comfortable allowing me to see her in any state of undress! And yet, the unmistakable rustle of fabric signaled that she had fully removed the gown, I was left wondering what would happen if I did look? Just one peek. One small glimpse wouldn't totally ruin her, would it?

But it might ruin _me_.

Maybe that was her intention. Maybe she wanted to push me to the brink of my sanity. Perhaps she assumed that by putting on this sort of passionate display and causing my blood to race that I would simply pass out or die from need. That being exposed to the ever growing fire raging and flooding my body after having lived in a dark prison of abstinence for so many decades would be my undoing. That she wouldn't have to see her efforts through to completion.

She was wrong. I would have something from this night, even if it was only a glance at her exposed beauty.

"Erik?" she said softly. When I didn't answer her, she called my name again. "Please look at me."

How gently and innocently she invited danger into her life! My mind kept repeating that her youth and immaturity were to blame for her apparent oblivious behavior. She didn't know what she was doing to me – the effect she had on me. My mind fought against the primal urge I felt. Yet my body – my lust, more to the point – won the argument and I slowly turned to look at her.

At first I kept my hand in front of my eyes, peering at her through my fingers like a child watching a horror story performed. But this was no horror story! Oh, _I_ was horrific in nature and appearance, that was certain, but the woman that stood before me now was nothing short of perfection.

She was dressed in a simple nightgown made of creamy white silk. I assumed it was silk from the shine of the fabric and the way it lightly fell over her skin, barely touching her except where her figure was full. The neck line was formed from lace and dipped down between her round breasts showing off the smooth, unmarred skin at her neck. The same lace served as a lose waistband that fell just below her bosom and accented the womanly curves of her perfect form. The gown gently danced over her hips and came to a stop at her ankles. She wore no slippers. Her feet were bare with no stockings, which for some reason left just as strong an impact on me as seeing the exposed swell of her chest. I raked my eyes over her figure once more, noticing that there was a small, blue ribbon tied in a bow right at the front between her breasts. I wanted to tug on that ribbon. I wanted to discover the secrets of the skin underneath. It would be warm and soft and flawless. I wanted to touch that skin, to feel that warmth, to behold such beauty! Never in my life had I been so enraptured by the sight of a woman! I had seen gypsy women in various states of undress. I had seen concubines in the most immodest apparel. But never had I seen a woman as pure and as untouched as Christine dressed in something that wholly punctuated her innocence.

She must have come to her senses and realized the danger she had placed herself in by exposing her glorious form to me in such a way because she shivered slightly and tugged a matching robe around her body. The blush that rose to her cheeks was evident even in the dim candle light. Her eyes darted away from my gaze coyly.

My God. She was exquisite.

Her gentle voice broke though my lustful thoughts. "Do you like it?"

I didn't dare put voice to my opinions. I would soil her childlike mind with immoral ideas were I to give detail to the many ways I was imagining removing the night dress. In my mind I imagined her stripping off the garment and succumbing to me, welcoming me to cover her nakedness with my own. Were I to say such things, to explain the deep urge I felt in this moment, she would certainly run in terror. Instead of speaking, I nodded my approval.

"My ladies maid assured me that my husband would approve of his bride wearing such things, especially on the wedding night." The blush on her cheeks deepened, but she finally met my eyes without shame or fear.

And then she moved causing the gown to flutter around her legs and tempt me even more with her figure. My eyes followed her hungrily as she made her way around to the opposite side of the bed from me. My heart leapt in joy and alarm when she pulled the bed covers back and began to crawl underneath. Out of my natural instinct to flee whenever someone was too close, I slid away from her and pulled my own portion of the covers around me in an attempt to hide as much of my body as possible.

The smile she offered me as she rested her head on the pillow was rather sad. I interpreted that to mean she was leery about the choices she had made in the last half an hour or so. I couldn't blame her. As much as I wanted to believe this moment was real, my mind had great difficulty accepting it. She patted the edge of my pillow and muttered a quiet, "Please?" It was a question, but the meaning was very clear. She really did want me to lie next to her.

And so I granted her wish. Or was it my wish being granted? I'd first felt the need of a normal man when I was but fifteen years old. My passion for Luciana was nowhere near as consuming as what I felt for Christine, and yet it was still powerful. I'd felt those stirrings a few other times in my life as a natural response to certain stimulants, but never had I acted on them. I knew for a fact that a woman would rather be killed than lie with me! And yet, here was Christine – _my_ Christine – lying in a bed next to me dressed in barely a wisp of silk. I had to be careful and keep my hand clutching at the blankets near my waist or she would become quite aware of how very much I desired her.

Cautiously, she shifted closer to me. Her hand, hesitant at first and then growing more sure, brushed against my cheek. "Don't you want to kiss me?" she asked.

Dear God! My body ached to give into this innocent temptress! To wrap my arms around her, to seal my mouth over hers, to plunge fervently into her depths! But I held back. How I restrained myself will forever be a mystery to even me, but I did so as to not frighten her away with my fierce need. I hissed out a simple, "Yes," and allowed her mouth to meet mine.

Our lips brushed once, and then twice. Then they held for several thunderous heart beats. And then slowly, excruciatingly slowly her lips sipped repeatedly at mine in blissful agony. I tasted her mouth. She returned the favor. Kiss after kiss grew slightly bolder and stronger until I felt the tip of her tongue softly scrape against my bottom lip. I mirrored her actions a few times, eventually slipping my tongue further inside with each pleasing stroke. All reasonable thought fled from my mind as I pressed myself closer to her, wanting to feel more than just her talented mouth. All thoughts of how hideous I was, how the very mouth she was kissing was deformed and misaligned, how wretched and ugly my body was vanished in that heavenly moment. I leaned in closer to her, pushing her down into the mattress, pulling her under me.

She moaned.

And then she said, "_Wait_."

Fury. Rage. Hate. It all instantly flooded my mind. I roughly pushed her away from me and bellowed, "GET OUT!"


	5. Confusion

_AN: Thanks go to EriksTrueAngel and Kryss LaBryn for the beta read. Thanks to Erikesangleofmusic4ever, T'eyla Minh, You are Love, and iheartmoony for the reviews. And thanks to the following for adding the fic to their favs list or putting it on alert: erikneverdies, Vamp-Fledging, Paintedmeg, and Tbnasib3. You've made my last chapter my most successful one thus far! _

_There will be a rating change in chapter 6, I promise! So if you want to find the fic after this, you will need to change the rating settings. _

**Confusion**

I shook in absolute anger. "GET OUT!" I yelled again when Christine made no move to leave the bed. "GET OUT! GET OUT! If you value your life at all, you will leave me. NOW!"

"But Erik–"

The rage swelling inside of me was boiling over. Oh, how I wanted to believe that her offer had been real! As repulsive as I was, I wanted to believe she could see past my deformity and love me. But I was a fool. I assumed a silly bout of romanticism on her part would make her forget she was beautiful and I was hideous. I stupidly believed that her innocence set her above other humans and allowed her to love when others are predisposed to hate. I was wrong. She was just like everyone else.

No! She was worse. She was the ultimate trickster. Like a spider weaving a web of sexual lust, she lured me into this position. She knew my weakness for her and what I wanted, and I had wandered into her trap like an unsuspecting insect ready to be slaughtered! But no more.

"This sick game you are playing is at an end! I will not be the butt of your jokes any longer. Now get out!"

"No, you don't under –"

"I understand perfectly," I said bitterly through clenched teeth. "You have proven your point! I am nothing but a monster who would do anything for a taste of beauty. Now, you've had your laugh. Remove yourself from my presence before I ignore what little conscience I have left and prove to you just how monstrous I can be!"

I turned away from her, burying my face into the pillow in shame while I waited for her to leave. But the foolish girl didn't leave. She ignored my warnings and actually reached out and touched me. It was just a brush of her fingers against my arm, but it was enough to send me into a rage. I whipped around and grabbed the offending hand with a jerk, digging my fingers painfully into her wrist and giving a slight twist. I hovered over her slightly, menacingly, unable to keep my wrath in check a moment longer.

"Do not touch me! Do not _dare_ touch me again!" She shuddered in fear, her eyes going wide as the color drained from her beautiful face. "You taunt and you tease and you think there will be no consequences? If you did not want me, then you should not have tricked me so! You should not have come here and flaunted your beauty in front of me! When you dangle a string before a cat, the creature will eventually pounce! I can only resist pouncing for so long, Christine, and you have brought me to my breaking point!"

"Please!" she whimpered. "Angel!"

"I AM NO ANGEL!" I roared, my hand squeezing her wrist even tighter. She squirmed under me, sinking deeper into the mattress. "I am not an angel. I am not a ghost. I'm not a phantom or a spirit. I am not a supernatural being. Or a mythical being. Or a figment of your imagination. I am a _man_." I took a few ragged breaths as I let the reality settle between us. "Though I may not look like the ideal, I assure you that I _am_ a man. And as a woman, you have pushed me to my limits!"

Her breath was quick and shallow as she looked up at me in shock. "But I–"

"I will not hear any more of your arguments!" I put my face within a few millimetres of her face and slowly, carefully, and quite pointedly said, "You will leave me before I brutally take from you what you unknowingly have offered!" I released her wrist roughly, pushing her away from me as I did. "Now be gone! We are finished!"

Once again I turned away from her, trying to calm the storm that had raged inside of me. It was a sign of how deeply I loved her that I didn't harm her further. Hopefully she would understand my threats and leave before it was too late. Because if she touched me again, I would not be responsible for my actions, which were sure to end in the loss of her innocence!

As my breathing slowed, an eerie silence filled the room. I didn't hear her move from the other side of the bed. I couldn't even hear her own breathing anymore. The stillness between us was in stark contrast to the heated moment that had just passed. If I didn't know she was still beside me, I would have supposed myself to be alone. However, she was most certainly there. She hadn't moved a muscle. And yet, if she didn't leave in the next ten seconds, I would take her and teach her a lesson she would never forget!

Ten...

Nine...

Eight...

Seven...

Six...

Five...

Four...

"The robe..." she breathed. "It was... it was caught." Her sweet voice was near a whisper. "I tried to turn... and the robe was caught under me. I couldn't move properly. I needed to sit up so I could take it off... so I could put my arms around you. _Tha_t was why I asked you to wait."

My blood stilled in my veins at her words.

"I wasn't... trying to trick you. I never meant to hurt you." Her voice trembled. "I wanted to show you, prove to you how much I love you." I could hear the tears forming from the way her voice shook. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry."

I slowly turned my head to look at her and take in the sorrow of her expression. Her eyes glistened with the tears pooling in their depths. Her lips formed a pout and the corners of her mouth dipped into a frown. My heart crumbled as I realized the atrocious error I had made.

It wasn't in my nature to assume anyone would ever treat me kindly, for very few people ever really had. Even then, those who had dared share any sort of semi-normal acquaintance with me were still terrified enough to know that once my aggression flared to life it was best to leave the room. It may even be best never to cross paths with me again. But in this case, with Christine, all the rules were rearranged. She had seen me at my very worst, and yet she chose to return to me. She had witnessed the evil I was capable of dealing out. Even now, after I had abused her generosity and love so viciously, she still stayed beside me, weeping and begging forgiveness for something in which she took no blame. I would surely rot in Hell for the suffering I had brought on this heavenly creature.

But not tonight. Surely Hell could wait for at least _one_ night.

"Christine," I said reverently.

She sniffed and cautiously pulled off the villainous robe. "You see," she said demonstrating how she could move more freely. "I can wrap my arms around you now. But I will go, if that is what you truly want. I'm so _sorry_."

"No," I said a little too quickly. "No, please. It is I who should apologize. I... I misunderstood."

She blinked, and a tear rolled down her perfect cheek. "How could you misunderstand?"

"You denied my advances once before. It seemed logical for you to deny me yet again."

She shook her head. "I wasn't denying you."

"You said to wait."

"Because the robe..."

"Yes, I know that _now_. But I thought you realized... that you didn't want..." On impulse, my hand rose to cover the catastrophe that was my face.

Carefully, she reached out and took my hand with her own. "I do want. But only if it is what you want, too. I will do whatever you wish. I will leave or I will stay. And if I stay, I am perfectly content to just lie next to you."

I stared deeply into her soulful eyes, searching for any deception or disgust but found none. "I want you to stay," I admitted. "But only if you are certain you understand what will happen."

She wet her lips and tilted her head slightly in thought. "What do you mean?"

"If you stay, Christine, I will... I want..." How could I explain my lust to an innocent angel? "I do not want you to just lie next to me. I wish for... _more_."

She took a deep breath and formed a small smile. "I wish for more, too. That is why I am here." Her tongue slipped over her lips again, drawing the attention of my eyes and my lust. Unaware that something so insignificant as a brush of her tongue on her lips could stir such a response in my body, Christine started prattling away very quickly.

"What I feel when I'm with you... I have never felt that way before. No one else makes me feel that way. _Nothing_ makes me feel that way. These last few weeks, all I have been able to think about was your kiss and the emotion it stirred within me and how I want to feel it again and how I would never forgive myself if I didn't at least... try... to see you again... and..." Her words died out as her eyes met mine with terrible longing. Though the explanation was childish, the ache she described was mature and mirrored my own.

"But do you understand?" I asked, trying to hide the desperate anticipation I felt. "Do you understand what it is I want – what it is you are offering? There is no going back from this. Once it is done, it cannot be undone."

The look she gave me was both serious and frustrated. "Do you honestly believe I don't know what happens between a husband and wife in the privacy of the bed chamber?" She paused, but I gave her no answer. "I'm not a child, Erik. I am a woman. And I am your wife. And I wish to be with you as a wife is with her husband. As a woman is with a man. No more, no less. If you do not wa–"

It wasn't necessary for me to hear the rest. I couldn't manage to wait for her to finish. She said she knew. She said she understood. And so I took what I wanted and stopped her mouth with a violent kiss.


	6. Infatuation

_AN: Mucho thanks to those who are leaving reviews, adding the fic to your favs list, or putting it on alert: iheartmoony7, anc3210, lks358, You Are Love, lovelycelticopera, canyr12, and SquidPire._

_And super duper thanks to the beta readers: Kryss LaBryn and Erik'sTrueAngel._

_I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Keep in mind, though, that I have several more chapters planned, so this is NOT the end! _

_In light of the recent happenings where fics are being pulled for content, I have altered this chapter to attempt to be more in tune with the sites policy. If you would like to read the original, PM me and I will happily forward it to you._

**Infatuation**

The need that had been building up inside of me while Christine naively described her own lust was too urgent and demanding. I covered her mouth with my own, kissing her, tasting her, dipping my tongue inside while pressing her back into the bed and taking position over her. My hands hurriedly sought out all the luscious curves and valleys of her body. I wanted to feel all of her at once, at this very moment! Her hips, her stomach, her breasts. Oh God, her perfect breasts! I cupped them and they filled my hand. But I wanted skin most of all. Her skin, bare and naked and flushed with passion. I tried to pull the gown up so I could feel her soft skin, but it took too much time. I wrestled with the garment until I very nearly ripped it in two!

"OFF!" I demanded. "Take this bloody thing off, now!"

I'm sure I sounded like a deranged lunatic given the ferocity of my desire, but to Christine's credit, she did not flinch. She simply sat up just enough for her to be able to slip the offending scrap of material off of her body. To my most profound and gratified astonishment, she wore nothing underneath.

The perfection of her body overwhelmed me. I inhaled sharply, holding my breath for fear that I would spoil the moment if I even moved. Christine must have misinterpreted my wonder for distaste for she suddenly covered her nakedness with her arms.

"No, no," I said gently moving her arms away from her torso so that I could once again behold the majesty of her figure. "Just let me... look... for a moment... please."

Her eyes peered up at me shyly through her lashes. "No one has ever... looked at me... like you do."

"Then I am the first to behold how truly beautiful you are."

She bit her bottom lip – Oh God! The things she did with that lip set me on fire! "I'm glad you think so." The blush that rose to her cheeks reminded me that she could feel the fire as well.

"Oh, Christine," I said as if her name were a prayer. "I have no words to describe your loveliness. It is mystifying to think how you could offer such beauty to a beast such as me."

Touching my distorted mouth to silence me, she said, "Don't talk that way." Her hand slid around to the back of my neck and tenderly pulled me closer to her. "In fact, don't talk at all. Just feel."

Oh, I could feel! I wanted to feel everything! And I would. This feeling – this knowledge would elude me no longer!

Dipping my head down, my lips met hers in a thoroughly passionate kiss. No more resisting. No more waiting. No more second thoughts on whether we should or shouldn't be doing this. No thoughts at all aside from those that were lustful and zealous.

Wanting to taste more of her skin, I let my kisses trace a path down her slender throat and over her shoulder. I nipped at the tender flesh of her pulse point and noticed how the natural rhythm created by her heart fueled my endeavors. Her heart pounded in her chest, and I reveled in the fact that it beat out a rhythm of desire rather than fear. I kissed her in time with her pulse and was granted a pleasurable moan, slurring downward in pitch, in response.

It was a revelation. She liked being kissed here. She _liked_ that I kissed her here! I wondered what other sounds I could orchestrate from just kissing her body.

I let my mouth wander over her figure, dropping kiss after kiss across her flawless, pale skin. I kissed her collarbone, her throat, the center of her chest, until I reached that glorious place between her breasts. I took my time in becoming acquainted with her body. I discovered that a flick of my tongue perfectly administrated resulted in a gasp of breath, while tracing circles on her skin with my finger tips brought forth a musical sigh. And at certain times, both sounds mixed together harmoniously.

She was a musical instrument and I was again the maestro.

The sounds that Christine made grew in fervor as I kissed further down her stomach. Now the musical sighs were joined by the shifting of her body and the occasional arching of her back. I lovingly nuzzled the giving softness of her belly while letting my hand drift lower and lower. This was my destination. Where I most wanted to discover.

A sharp intake of her breath announced her surprise, and the long, melodious moan that followed proclaimed her pleasure. I held her, felt her, touched her. My body ached. I craved her, coveted her. There was no other thought in my head but finding a way to climb inside of her as quickly as possible. My need was devouring my thoughts so completely that I felt I might die unless I found release. Gracelessly, I kicked my legs free of the trousers I wore and climbed on top of her without pause.

What little coherence I had remaining in my brain vanished when we became one. It was too much for my mind to absorb. I was too awkward, and she was too innocent. The moment consumed me, drowned me. The pleasure, the satisfaction, the fulfillment erupted in one shining moment of ecstasy.

Shining... but abysmally brief.

Panting, gasping for breath, what little strength I had summoned for the interim vanished like a puff of smoke. My arms gave out, and I awkwardly collapsed on top of her. Having been released from the prison of my lust, I was able to reason once more. The pleasure I had felt from being joined with her evolved into horror upon realization of what I had just done.

I'd ruined her. I was sure of it. I didn't only ruin her in the sense that she was no longer a virgin, but I'd also ruined any wonder or romanticism she might have had about love making.

And she had let me. That was the worst of it! She had affably given herself to me and I had brutally abused her gift. I despised myself more than ever, for I had proven to be the heinous monster my face proclaimed me to be.

The light, gentle stroke of her hand on my back brought my thoughts back to the present and the supple woman currently being crushed beneath my skeletal body. We were still intimately joined, and the sensation of her warmth surrounding the very part of my body that had robbed her of her innocence was too much for my mind to endure. The horror, the guilt, the amazement, the pleasure, and the hatred swirled around in my head leaving me confounded and lost. There were no words to describe this offence, this wretchedness. And so my emotion poured out of me in the only manner acceptable.

I wept.

Being a man and weeping in front of a woman is always a horrible business. Weeping while lying on top of a woman you have just had sex with is even more abysmal. Weeping to the point where your face, already revolting and repugnant, is a blubbering mess of tears is perfectly reprehensible. But it couldn't be avoided. I couldn't contain the emotion any more than I could have stopped myself from having sex with her. The tears raining down my warped cheeks were shed involuntarily and uncontrollably.

When Christine's arms wrapped around me to offer comfort, I jumped in disgrace. I couldn't take comfort from her when I had abused her so appallingly. I slipped out of her grasp repeating, "Forgive me. Please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," she said, trying to pull me back in her embrace.

I wouldn't allow it! I slid away from her slowly, carefully, not wanting to hurt her any further. Yet as I left the comfort of her warmth, I briefly glanced down at her body. I expected to see bruises or some other trace of the madness that had just passed, but her skin was rosy and unmarred. I felt ever so slightly relieved until I noticed the deep red stain between her legs.

"Oh God! You bleed!" It shouldn't have shocked me as greatly as it did, yet I was left horror struck that I had actually hurt her so much to draw blood. I'd bloodied many a person in my lifetime and never – _never_ had it wounded me so fiercely to see another's blood as it did to see Christine's.

I scurried to the edge of the bed and frantically searched a side table in the dim light for a rag, a scrap of clothing, anything to clean away the evidence of the carnage done to her body. I found a cloth that Nadir had offered me a day or so ago – was it really only a day ago? I was in the thick of a painful seizure and he gave it to me to mop the sweat from my face under my mask. I grabbed it up and turned to Christine. "Here, let me – I must –"

"Erik, I am fine," she offered.

"No, you are not. You bleed."

"But I'm fine." She tried to stop me from touching her. "It's just virginal bl–"

"_I know what it is, damn it!_" I scowled and snatched my hand away from her. Then, taking a deep breath to put my anger in check, I said, "Please, just let me help you. I _must_."

She relented and I carefully, delicately brushed at her most sensitive skin until all traces of what was left of her innocence were gone. With a need to make certain she knew her marital obligation to me had been fulfilled, I covered her up first with the sheet and then the quilt.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you are warm enough. You will catch a chill lying here. Do you want your night gown?"

Christine looked back at me in confusion. "Erik?"

"You are fine," I muttered, tucking the blankets tightly around her. "You will be fine now. It is over. You should rest."

"But Erik... I..."

I turned away from her, not really hearing anything more. My mind was still reeling from the love, the sex, the blood. She had kissed me, touched me, consumed me. What little was left of my sanity was fleeting, and I found it difficult to hold onto anything but the need to be as far away from her as possible. She needed to know I posed no further danger to her. And I needed to accept that something I'd only ever dreamed of had just transpired in the most vicious way.

I curled up at the far side of the bed, wanting to curl up inside of myself and disappear. I couldn't disappear. Not fully. But the world could. The world would vanish if I just closed my eyes.


	7. Castigation

_AN: This is kind of a long author's note. Sorry! I've been sick and VERY VERY busy. I have one more chapter finished but about 4 more to write for this phic. I'm not sure how quickly I will be posting, so please hang with me! These next few weeks are going to be insane busy for me! _

_Eriks Angel Forever, xNinjaxBunnyx, You are Love, CountessofRothes, lks358, Eriksangelofmusic4ever, Anyanka Jenkins, erikmylove, Foreverec, leslieljs713, NoCookies4U, and xo-theteddybear-xo: Thank you so much for the reviews and for putting the story on alert. _

_I love getting feedback, and so if ever you have a question or concern about the story, please let me know. In fact, I'm very interested to see what everyone thinks of this chapter. I was pretty nervous when I sent it to the beta readers, but they both thought it worked well and made sense for this version of Erik. If you think otherwise, let me know! I don't believe an author can improve unless they know what they aren't doing correctly to communicate to their audience. _

_Kryss LaBryn and Erik'sTrueAngel, thank you for the corrections and the help. _

_Also, if someone could direct me to a great place to post phantom phics other than here, I would appreciate it. There is a notice on the main page here that says they don't allow fanfics that describe sexual situation. Now, I've been around for a LOOOOONG time, and I have read LOTS of sexy fics. But I was warned by a fellow friend that several of her favorites have recently been pulled without any warning. So I'm concerned for this fic and a few others of mine. Since this is the current phic and there is a sex scene (and at least one more) I don't want those of you who have been following it to be left high and dry. Let me know of a good archive in a review or send me a PM. _

**Castigation**

As I lay there in the silence for an indeterminate amount of time, I mentally scolded myself for every step that had brought me to this point. It was wrong of me to accept Christine's charitable offer of intimacy. It was ludicrous for me to believe she had wanted to marry a freak of nature such as me. It was foolish to believe I could try to live without her, and even more unwise to use my murderous ways to force her to choose me over that foppish boy. It was reckless to take her on as a student when I knew no good would ever come of it. It was impractical to believe I could live in the underbelly of an opera house and convince the world that I was a ghost. I had set this whole thing in motion. The madness of it all was my own fault. I should have never been tempted to put my influence over the Garnier!

Which meant it could be seen as his fault. But no. He had nothing to do with my tortured relationship with Christine. It wasn't even his work, really, that brought me here, but rather my own insatiable need to build something that would last. Maybe that blame could be placed on the Shah for making me build something that wasn't really mine. Or perhaps it was Giovanni's fault for teaching me and making me believe that I could have something of a conventional life. That thought only led me to Luciana, the first female I ever wanted – the first female to tease me past my own ability to resist. The result of my lust had been her death. My mind came full circle to Christine and the fact that my lust, while not physically killing her, had most likely murdered her hopes and dreams and spirit.

And that was my fault. I couldn't be trusted with a woman. They screamed in terror at the sight of me, and rightfully so. Consider my own mother, the first woman to ever look upon me – the woman who created me! She couldn't even bear to touch me. I was too ugly, too deformed, too much of a demon for her to tolerate. She'd only dared touch me to punish me or push me away. It's no wonder I can't tolerate – why I can't properly respond to being touched.

That was the solution! It was her fault! Yes! My malevolent, vile, bitch of a mother. She was to blame for the way I behaved towards Christine!

Christine...

My mind shifted back to the dark room and to the figure lying on the opposite side of the bed from me. She was so quiet, so still. I wondered if she had fallen asleep, but shook off the thought when I considered how ridiculous that idea was! A woman who had been mistreated so cruelly would never be able to peacefully sleep next to her attacker. No, Christine was awake and doubtless in shock over the whole gruesome situation.

I haven't any idea how long we had lain there. My mind kept circling through the blame trying to find the point where it all went so horribly wrong. The moment that I settled on was the only logical conclusion. The precise incident that brought about these events was my birth. As simple as it sounds, I was born and no one I'd come in contact with had ever truly been better for it.

The burdensome silence was broken by a sniff. Christine was crying again. By the stars, I should be drawn and quartered for the injury I'd imposed on her. Focusing my mind on the ability to speak reasonably would be challenging, but she deserved something of an explanation or apology after all I put her though. How does one explain a lifetime of self-loathing and rejection?

"Forgive me," I started softly. I kept my face hidden behind my hands, almost buried in the pillow. "I am... not used to..." I shifted even further away from her. "I am not accustomed... to being... touched." Knowing Christine, she would try to touch me. That was the last thing I wanted at that moment. My sanity would have snapped, I'm sure. "Especially... intimately," I added.

"Are you..." she whispered, "... are you all right?"

_She_ was concerned for _my_ well being? How very self-sacrificing of her. But was I all right? No. I would never really ever be _all right_. Especially after tonight. How to explain it to her though?

"I was... unprepared," I offered. "I didn't fully... realize... comprehend... I didn't know. I mean, I _knew_, but it isn't something one _really_ knows until it happens, is it?" The words were a jumbled mess, just like my thoughts. "Like being stabbed. I've heard – I've seen someone who was stabbed and wounded. I've been witness to their pain and I realized what they must have suffered. But I've never been stabbed, so I don't really know, do I?" Leave it to me to liken sexual intercourse to being gutted with a knife. It was almost poetic.

Christine completely misunderstood my ramblings. "Are you hurt? Is there something I can do to help?"

I almost laughed. "Hurt? No. Not really. I just... was unprepared."

"Unprepared for what? For love?"

Was she mocking me? Or was she just truly that innocent? I gave her the benefit of the doubt and tried to explain myself more fully. In a broken-sounding voice, I said, "I've read books. I've heard arias. I've even witnessed the act of love-making between various sorts of companions. People who love, people who hate, people who use it as a weapon or as a means of escape. I've known the mechanics of the act. How it's done has never been much a mystery. But the result... the act itself... the emotion... the sensations... those were lost to me." I kept my face hidden as much as I could, buried in the crook of my too-thin arm or the fluff of the pillow. I knew she was looking at me, and the weight of her stare was a heavy burden. "There is no book, no poem... there is no song or art work... there isn't even a word profound and expressive enough to explain the full complexity of... what just happened here."

"But you aren't hurt?" she asked again.

I chuckled darkly. "How very true to your character that you worry if _you _have hurt _me_."

"Of course I worry about you. I love you."

The more she said it, the guiltier I felt. "And that, my dear, is a stupid mistake."

Her tone and the mood in the room changed instantly. "How dare you!" she spat out. "How dare you suggest that I am stupid for loving you... or that my love is a mistake!"

"But it is," I countered. "You could have anyone."

"And I want you!"

"Christine!" I groaned in ultimate frustration. She would never understand. I'd abused her so much that she'd lost all common sense and ability to reason. "When will you accept that I am unlovable?"

"What?"

"From the moment of my birth, I was unlovable. My own mother couldn't tolerate me enough to love me. What makes you believe you are more capable than she was?"

"Because..." She paused then, the wheels spinning in her brain so fast I swear I could hear them. "Because I fell in love with you – with your soul – and not your face."

Now I really did laugh. "You've used that argument already. It could be said that my soul is just as distorted as my face!"

She sighed heavily, "And yet it's not. It's beautiful." I felt the smallest brush of her fingers on the back of my hand. "_You_ are beautiful."

Even though I was afraid to meet her eyes out of the shame I felt, I forced myself to look at her now. Face-to-face, unflinching from her gaze, she wouldn't dare make such a statement about my appearance. But to my surprise, she didn't look away from my mismatched eyes or the disaster of my face. She only smiled at me.

"I don't have time for pretty lies, Christine. Dress them up however you like, they are still lies." She winced at my words and looked upon me with such sadness. I detested that look, and I told her so. "I do not want your _pity_!"

"I don't pity you in that way," she explained softly. "I only pity the fact that you are incapable of seeing your own beauty."

Her voice was so calm, so pure, so honest. I wished I could believe her, but I would never be able to escape the horror of my own appearance. "How can you," I asked after a long pause, "who is the epitome of beauty, look upon me and not feel the urge to vomit?"

"Because I love you," she said simply.

I shook my head. "Which I still don't understand."

She took a deep breath and moved ever-so-slightly closer to me. "Tell me, Erik... why do you love me?"

I blinked. Stunned. Wasn't it obvious why I loved her? I would hardly be a man if I couldn't love her. It was so easy to love her. Why did she even question it? She looked back at me with expectation and I knew she was being completely serious with her question. "I love you because you are everything that is joyful and lovely," I said somewhat shyly. "I love your smile, the light in your eyes. I cling to darkness, but I am like a moth to the flame of light that seems to surround you. You are kind and gentle and sweet. And your voice..." I closed my eyes, remembering the first time I heard my Angel of music. "Your voice is the closest thing to Heaven I have ever experienced..." I thought for a moment and then correct my final statement. "That is...until... tonight..." I swallowed. "Your voice brings such joy to my tortured existence. I could listen to you sing every moment of every day for the rest of eternity and never tire of the sound." I met her eyes again. "You are the most exquisite, beautiful creature that has ever crossed my path. How could I not love you?"

Carefully, Christine covered my hand with her own. "If I were to lose some of my beauty, would you still love me?"

"Of course!" I said without hesitation.

"You love me for more than just my face, don't you?"

"Yes..." And then I realized the true meaning behind her line of questions.

"If you love me for more than just my face, why is it so impossible to believe that I love you for similar reasons?"

As she spoke, I shook my head and pulled my hand from her grasp. "It's different, Christine."

"Why is it different? If I were wrinkled or had thinning hair or warts, why is that different?"

"The problems you are describing are somewhat acceptable, where as my face is nothing more than a monstrosity!"

"Do you think I don't know what you look like, Erik?" I stopped cold at her words. "I am not blind. I can see your face. I know very well what your face looks like. And I still love you for reasons that have nothing to do with your appearance." After a pause she added, "And even then, I do find you attractive."

"No," I groaned.

"If only you could see yourself through my eyes, maybe then I could convince you."

I wanted to hide from her piercing yet perplexedly loving gaze. "You challenge my sanity when you say things like that!"

"The first time I saw you... no." She stopped and regrouped her thoughts. "The first time I heard your voice, I was enchanted. Your voice is so soothing, so captivating. I couldn't ignore it, couldn't resist it. I believe I fell in love with you based solely on your voice alone. And that was just your speaking voice. Nothing prepared me for your singing voice. There is a reason why I liken you to an Angel, Erik, and it's not for the mysterious way you seem to be everywhere and nowhere at once. It's your voice. The intelligence in your voice. You are the most intelligent man I've ever met. And that intelligence seeps into your music. Oh God, your _music_!" Her head tilted back and her eyes closed in a manner indicative of pleasure. "Words cannot describe the effect your music has on me. You_ are_ music, Erik. It's in your pulse; it seeps from your veins.

I was engrossed in the way she described me. Music had always been a part of my life. I'd never known a time without it. It was, for all intents and purposes, my first love. I had known from a young age that I was able to control others through some sort of hypnosis with my voice. However I had always believed, thanks to my mother, that my voice was wicked and devilish. I used it for wicked purposes, certainly, but never did I expect to hear my voice described so appealingly by Christine.

"You even move musically," she continued, focusing her eyes on mine once more. "You seem to glide through space. You move so fluently, so gracefully. It's almost as if you float. I don't think you are even aware of it, but the way you move is very elegant. Your posture, your very presence is commanding and dominant and so very... masculine. And your hands... your hands captivate me. I could watch those long, elegant fingers stroke the piano keys for hours. I have often imagined them stroking my skin..." To my surprise, she blushed and hid her eyes from me. "I know that sounds strange, but I want you to know that I am genuinely am attracted to you. I have been attracted to you for such a long time. I have wanted to touch you, to feel your solid body against mine. I feel... safe... loved... adored..."

Her gaze met mine again in the thick, revealing stillness. My voice was lost, my throat dry, my mind reeling from her interpretation. What could I say in return? How was I even to respond?

Taking my hand again, Christine meaningfully laced her fingers with mine. She nudged her body even closer to mine. We were now so close, lying side by side, faces only a breath apart. She brushed a kiss on my knuckles and looked up at me through her long lashes. "I love you, Erik. What more can I say? What more can I do to prove it to you?"

For the first time, I completely believed her. The love I felt for her was reflected in the way she gazed back at me. She_ loved_ me. _She_ loved _me_. Despite my ugliness. Despite my need for darkness. Despite the fact that I threatened her and held her against her will. For reasons beyond my comprehension, _she loved me_.

Christine sniffed and bit at her bottom lip in that way that always appealed to me more than it should. "What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

"Oh, Christine," I sighed. "It isn't proof I need anymore. It's that... I am unworthy of it."

She licked her lips. God, she was always biting and licking at those plump, perfect lips! With one more shift of her body, she was able to nuzzle her face into the crook of my neck under my chin. Our hands were still grasped between us, so I couldn't feel the full pressure of her body against mine, but I could feel her warm breath. And then I felt her lips. She kissed the tender skin at my pulse point. And then she kissed the place just beneath my ear.

I pulled away so that I could look into her eyes. There was no fear – no disgust. Only love. Love like I'd never seen or felt or experienced. I may be unworthy of this love, but I had it none-the-less. I had her love. It was mine. _She _was mine. I'd given her the chance to leave again, and she had argued her reasons to stay. And now she kissed me and pressed against me. What else could a man do when faced with such love?

I didn't have a choice any more. The choice had been made, and my body moved toward her on impulse, commanding my thoughts to forget my face and just feel the love that was offered. For just one night, I would allow myself to forget.


	8. Veneration

_AN: This chapter is highly edited, and yet I still worry that it will be pulled. If you would like the unedited version, shoot me a PM with your e-mail and I will send it to you. Or give me the name of your favorite phan phic archive and I will see if I can post over there . _

_Many thanks to the beta readers Kryss LaBryn and Erik'sTrueAngel. And super thanks to those of you who have reviewed, favorited, or put the fic on alert: MoonlightDutchess, Jo1994, You Are Love, Stephanie, lks358, Erik's Angel Forever, jackfreak123, Supernatural-Girl17, and Terketam. _

**Veneration**

Our mouths met in a gentle kiss. Just a brush of the lips. And then another. And another. Building in pressure and in tempo. Kiss after kiss, we tasted and nipped at each other until we both needed more to satisfy our thirst. I boldly dragged my tongue over her bottom lip, that same lip that she licked and bit at countless times. I wanted to know what it felt like to lick and bite at that lip, too. And she granted me the pleasure of discovery. Her own tongue sought out mine, and soon our mouths were open against each other. I arrowed my tongue to the back of her throat, and she mimicked the action. Breath mingled, tongues danced, teeth scraped. Our mouths mated. Wet, and hot, and hungry. And my sex stirred in swift response.

Dear God! So _this_ was kissing!

We kissed, and kissed again. Endless kissing. Mindless kissing. My hands roamed over her smooth, exposed skin and my needy body instinctively arched toward her. I thought I knew what passionate kissing was from our previous encounter, but no. This – _this_ was what men wrote poems about and what caused women to swoon. This was what I had been craving all these years. I thought a simple kiss would suffice – would appease the ever-present want in my body. Never again. Now that I knew these kisses, I would never be able to resist Christine's mouth again.

"Finally," I mumbled against her lips. "I understand."

She sucked on my mangled bottom lip before asking, "What do you understand?"

"Why kissing..." I echoed her action and drew her bottom lip between my lips. "...is so very..." I bestowed a deep, evocative kiss on her mouth. "...desirable."

"What do you mean?" she muttered into my mouth.

"I'd convinced myself..." Another kiss. And then another that was even deeper than before. "...that kissing was..." Our tongues wrapped around each other. "... disgusting."

Instantly, she pulled away from me, her eyes troubled and confused. "_What_?"

I genuinely needed to learn to keep my twisted thoughts to myself. Now I'd exposed how warped my mind could be when it came to matters of love and intimacy. I had to explain myself or she would probably never kiss me again. And that was completely unacceptable!

"I have always yearned... to be kissed. However, it became quite clear to me after so many years of solitude that I would most likely never be granted the privilege. Thus, I convinced myself that it was something... revolting. The more repulsive I could make a kiss seem, the less I thought I would want to participate. I considered the saliva, the breath of the other person. If they had eaten something with a strong stench, like garlic or onions. Or if they were diseased in some way. Kissing would then be something unpleasant, and the lack thereof wouldn't torture me so."

Christine's brow furrowed in thought. "I had wondered if I was the first to share a romantic kiss with you."

"My sweet," I said softly, "you are the first person to ever grant me a kiss, romantic _or_ platonic in nature."

She looked back at me, somewhat staggered. "What about... your mother? Didn't she..."

Her question went unfinished as I'm sure the look on my distorted face told her the answer. "Yours are the only lips that have ever touched my skin in any way," I admitted.

She smiled somewhat sadly and leaned forward to press her mouth fully against mine. "Then I shall have to make certain that every millimetre of your body is granted due admiration."

I shuddered at the suggestion and met her mouth in a commanding, all-consuming kiss. She returned it with equal ardor, and then moved to brush her lips over my neck, my throat, my shoulders. To my body's immeasurable delight, she kissed and nipped and flirted with my chest and even lower on my stomach. I convulsed with newly-found pleasure.

She had meant what she said; she would kiss every secret place on my body, however I wasn't ready to allow her to fulfill that promise just yet, much as my body desired it. I had reached my pleasure previously tonight, and I was acutely aware that Christine had yet to achieve the same pinnacle of ecstasy. I would not be content until she was introduced to such rapture and her belief in physical love was secured.

I guided her face back up to mine and began kissing her mouth once more. Those same deep, breathless kisses that made her sigh and moan. I longed to press against her, to dive into her body, but was still concerned for her physical well being. I had been so rough, so quick in taking her virginity. Regardless of her love for me or the devotion exhibited by her kiss, she might not yet be keen again on love-making.

"Please," I mumbled through the kisses. "I can be gentle."

She hummed a question.

"Let me love you again," I pleaded against her mouth. "I _swear_ I can be gentle."

"Erik..." The way she said my name, all breathy and raspy, made me only want her that much more. "You don't have to ask permission."

I looked deeply into her eyes, needing an explanation.

"I gave you permission when I married you," she said in a sweet but wholly seductive way.

This time when our mouths met, I didn't hesitate to draw her fully against me. Her body writhed from my touch, and I pressed forward, seeking the soft cradle between her legs. With our mouths still fused together, she wrapped one slender leg up and around my bony hip. I practically lost all sense of control. If ever I was suspicious of her love for me, if ever I had thought I couldn't please her, the way she intimately pressed against me dispelled all doubt and urged me forward.

Quite literally.

As we became united in body, so did we unite in spirit. I reveled in how her softness counter-balanced my hardness. Her beauty regulated my ugliness. Her light equalized my darkness. Like yin to yang. Male to female. The natural attraction of opposites.

But it was not perfection. Not just yet. Our mutual inexperience infused with both of our intentions to please the other person first put a surprising damper on our coupling. Not wanting to be thwarted in my endeavor, I stilled her movements with one hand and braced myself above her so that I could look down into her exquisite face.

"Move with me," I begged. "Slowly."

Tentatively, our bodies came together in one fluid motion. And then we moved. Again. And yet again.

"Yes," I hissed. "Like that."

"Like..." Christine panted. "Like a dance."

"Yes," I breathed again.

From that point on, I had no sense of the words that were spoken, even though I knew we both said things and used vocabulary that we would have never permitted ourselves to say in public. Our passion fused as our bodies merged and melted together. The world around us completely fell away as we became one, body and soul. Nothing else mattered in that moment for me but her pleasure. Her fingers clawed at my too-thin shoulders, pulling me toward that precipice. She tossed her head back and cried out my name, sending a shock wave through my body.

We both shuddered, the spasms of the pleasure coursing through our limbs. Our breathing was ragged and torn as we both collapsed from the fatigue of glorious love making. My heart thudded in my chest, and I could feel Christine's heart echoing the same rhythm confirming the emotional connection the way the love-making confirmed the physical. I don't know which aspect affected me more – the physical or emotional – as I had never had either one in my life. The understanding that she accepted my physical abnormalities only reinforced the emotional connection. And yet it was the emotion she felt for me that made her acceptance of my gruesome appearance permissible. No matter which way I examined the situation, I returned to the same conclusion: she loved me and I worshipped her.

Still finding it difficult to catch my breath, I placed a sweet kiss on her bare shoulder and ran my fingers along the tender skin of her side just under her breast. Suddenly, I took note of how quick and shallow Christine's breathing actually was. I lifted up just enough to look at her only to be met with wide, startled eyes.

"I can't breathe!" she said on an inhale, panting heavily.

I moved off of her without waiting to be asked. She gasped and gulped for air, repeating over and over, "I can't... breathe! I can't... breathe!"

Oh God. What had I done?


	9. Communication

_AN: I'M SORRY! I've been away for a while. My parent's celebrated their 50th anniversary and I played host to about 30 people from out of town. Also I went to this little thing in San Diego last week. Maybe you've heard of it... Comic Con! Yeah, I went and I freaking got into the Firefly panel and met Joss Whedon! Ok, so that's another fandom but it helps explain why I've been gone. I've started working on the next chapter which I hope to have it out next week, so keep your fingers crossed. But thank you for your support thus far!_

_Many thanks to the beta readers, Kryss LaBryn and Erik'sTrueAngel. _

_Thanks for leaving a review or adding me or the fic to your alerts/fav lists: EriksAngelofMusic4Ever, Stephanie, Countess of Rothes, Petals Open to the Moon, IronPen123, jackfreak123, Supernatural-Girl17, The Arcane, Penmora Zenith, The Eclectic Eccentric, OnxyRose13, Sheri77, christinedaae229, and liquidsunshine._

**Communication**

The glory of the climax of intimacy was shattered by the fact that Christine was currently gasping for air. She thrashed around somewhat, panting and wheezing, while I searched for something to aid in her crisis. On the bed side table, I found the wedding invitation she had hand written. Immediately, I snatched it up and used it as a fan to move the air around Christine and hopefully help her regain the ability to breathe normally.

"I can't... oh God! I can't...!" she said again.

"Where are you hurt?" I asked, fanning her with desperation. "What can I do?"

"Hurt?" she gasped. "I feel... oh God! I feel..."

"What?" I begged, horrified that I'd done permanent damage to her.

"I feel..." she gulped in some air. "My bones... I feel as if my body is all disconnected."

That wasn't what I had been expecting. The paper I was flailing around in my hand slowed as she continued to describe her purported turmoil.

"I can't seem to catch my breath," she panted. "My heart is racing... I feel completely... undone..." She sighed then, a dreamy, lovely sigh that shared no resemblance to sounds someone made while in gross pain.

"Then, you are not injured?" I asked.

Her eyes were closed and she stretched lazily, almost wistfully as she said. "I feel... divine!" Her movements were now in complete opposition with her supposed condition. She took a deep breath and said, "I just find it difficult... to breathe!"

Sighing in relief, I rolled back onto the bed and closed my own eyes. "You frightened me."

"I did?" she asked, the pitch of her voice sounding more normal. "How did I do that?"

"I thought I had hurt you."

"No," she confirmed. "At least, I don't _think_ so." There was a pause before she asked. "What _did_ you do to me?"

The relief I felt a moment earlier turned into concern once more. "What do you mean?"

"What _was_ that? I've never felt anything like that."

The way she said it, slightly breathless with the understanding of a woman who is no longer a little girl, brought a slight smile to my twisted mouth. "Though I am no expert, I believe you found sexual release."

"Release?" she sighed. "I would say it felt more like... an explosion."

My misshapen smile widened. "Was it... pleasurable?"

She moaned, and I was certain that had I not just spent myself twice I would have grown hard from the sound of that moan. "It was," she whispered. "Does that make me a... trollop?"

Startled at her word choice, I turned my head to find her stretching and moving her limbs in an effort to make sure everything still worked. "Given the fact that you have never felt it before, Christine, you are certainly _not_ a trollop."

Her eyes went wide and she returned my smile. "Does it have a name?"

"What?"

"This feeling. Do you know if it has a proper name?"

The absurdity of her question, the purity of it brought a laugh out of me. "Oh my love, you are truly innocent, aren't you? Or at least, you _were_."

"Don't laugh at me," she scolded. "I just haven't experienced the world the way you have."

The laugh continued to rumble in my chest. "What part of our conversations has ever led you to believe my worldly experience included love-making?"

She blushed and scooted closer to me. "That isn't what I mean, and you know it. Stop teasing me."

"But you make it so easy," I smiled. Our eyes met and she reached out brush her finger tips over my arm. "La petite mort," I said as my skin broke out in gooseflesh.

"The little death?" she said in surprise.

"That's the phrase for which you were searching – the word that describes what happened to you."

She tested the phrase a few times, thinking about the meaning until her features twisted in obvious revulsion. "It's not very pretty word, is it? In fact, it's atrocious!"

Again I chuckled. "Does everything have to be beautiful for you?"

"Something as powerful and as life-altering as love-making should have a beautiful word to describe it."

"Love-making is the act, Christine," I said turning onto my side to face her. "Love-making is a beautiful phrase, don't you think? La petite mort is just a final moment where one gives oneself over to the passion and releases the energy that has been created. That's why it is likened unto death. "

"Love-making is very beautiful," she agreed. "Which proves my point that to compare a moment of pure ecstasy to that of death in inequitable. It should be compared to life, for I have never felt more alive than I do right now."

Dear God, how I loved this woman! As I marveled at her beauty and purity as well as the new-found ease of our conversation, she curled her naked body against mine and draped an arm over my boney chest. I pulled the quilt over her shoulders, but she pushed it off with a twist of her arms.

"I'm too warm," she explained.

Indeed, she was. I could feel the heat radiating off her blushed skin. "I just didn't want you to become ill. The air in here is chilled, which is never good to mix with exposed skin covered in perspiration."

She leaned up a bit to gaze down at me. "How are you able to speak like that?"

I frowned. "How do you mean?"

She sank back down against my body saying, "I can't think straight right now! I don't know how you manage to use that enormous vocabulary of yours when my own mind is so fuzzy and unclear." Her searching fingers circled my nipple, sending out tiny waves of pleasure over my chest and down into my stomach. "Did you not... Did you..."

"Did I what?"

"Did you experience the same thing I did?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes," I said with a small chuckle. "Why would you think I didn't?"

"Because your brain still seems to be working, while mine has emptied itself of everything but this glorious feeling!"

"It's different for men," I proposed. "I'm no expert – not by a long shot! But from what I have observed, the incoherency that often accompanies love-making affects men _during_ the journey but affects women more so _after_wards."

Christine was quiet for a moment. "So, do you not feel dizzy and somewhat... lost?"

"No," I admitted. "Tired... and spent... but not dizzy."

"Tired?" She rose up to meet my eyes again. "You're tired?"

"Of course!"

Her eyes danced with excitement. "I feel wide awake! I feel so alive! I feel... so full of energy!"

"Again, the difference between men and women. Or at least between one who is young and one who is not."

She pouted a little and punished that bottom lip of hers once again by biting at it. "Does that mean you're going to fall asleep now?"

My eyes felt unbearably heavy. "I was considering it."

Her disappointed moan made my heart swell. "But I was hoping... I mean... I wanted to... to..."

"To what?" I pressed, my eyes falling shut.

Christine's voice fell to a hushed whisper. "I wanted to do it again."

My eyes sprung open. "Truly?"

She blushed and lowered her lashes. "Do you think me a trollop now?"

Once again, her query brought a laugh out of me. "A trollop? Never."

"Good," she sighed.

"But you may be the death of me."

I felt her body stiffen in my arms. "What do you mean?"

"Just that your youthful sexual appetite might prove to be more demanding than my decrepit and mangled body can supply."

"Oh," she said, and I could hear relief in her voice. The clarity that this heavenly creature truly cared for me to the point of devoted love left me bewildered. The fact that we'd just had a very open, rather intimate conversation amazed me. And the reality that I had given her pleasure and now she requested more sent my soul soaring. I kissed the top of her head, now cradled in the crook of my arm, and breathed in her scent as deeply as I could.

She loved me. I loved her. And nothing would ever change that.

The spasm ripped through my body without warning. It took ever measure of my strength not to writhe in total agony of the pain coursing through my body. As carefully as I could, I tried to push her away from me. The weight of her body against mine, as minimalistic as it seemed a moment ago, now felt like a building crashing down on me.

"Erik? What's the matter?"

I turned from her, trying to hide the fact that I was in extreme agony. It was obvious that something was wrong, but she didn't need to know just how unbearable the ache in my bones felt.

"Erik?" Her voice sounded frightened now, and that pained me almost as much as the seizure. "What's wrong?"

I tried to tell her it was nothing, but what came out of my mouth sounded like animals chattering. My body shook despite how I did my damnedest to remain still.

"What can I do?" Christine cried out. "Tell me what I need to do!"

The convulsions mercilessly tore through my limbs and my chest. I sealed my eyes shut, attempting to seal out the pain that gripped my heart and threatened to tear my life away. How pitifully ironic. It was only a few hours ago that I was begging Death to carry me away. At that time I would have welcomed him with open arms. But not now. I had tasted the beauty and sweetness of true love. I had been given a gift, a blessing! Now, I wanted to live!

"Please! Erik!"

Christine's cries of fear would not be the last thing I heard before I departed this world! I couldn't bare it! I forced my body to still – to will the tremors to cease. And slowly, painfully slowly, I began to breathe normally as the cruel pain in my bones subsided.

"Erik? Erik, talk to me, please! What's happening to you?"

I inhaled slowly, testing my ability to breathe and possibly talk. "It's nothing," I said in a raspy, unrecognizable voice.

With gentle, careful hands, Christine stroked my arms and tried to soothe away the ache. "It's not nothing!" Her tone was concerned but scolding.

"A small seizure is all," I managed to lie. "I've had them... for years now..."

She shook her head. "I've never seen this happen to you."

"It must be... that I'm tired."

My unfortunate word choice was misunderstood. "It's my fault!"

"No, it isn't," I assured her.

"It is! You said you were tired! I knew you had been ill! I shouldn't have come here!"

"Christine!" I snapped, stopping her from leaving the bed. "What you have done for me tonight... I wouldn't exchange for the world."

"Are you certain?" she said, her eyes hopeful.

"I am certain," I assured her. But she still looked hesitant. "Please," I said, gesturing for her to lie back down next to me. "Let us both just sleep for a while."

"All right," she said reluctantly.

But even as she lowered herself to the bed and cautiously snuggled her body against mine, I knew that we'd come to the end of our allotted time together. Christine dreamt now, and I lay awake facing the nightmare of what would come in a few hours.


	10. Realization

_AN: I know it has been forever since I updated. I hate to leave things unfinished, so I hope those who were following the story will return for these last few chapters. _

_Thanks to Cora DeBlaere, You Are Love, Samantha, Eriksangelofmusic4ever, Petals Open to the Moon, Jo1994, fireprincess69, Maymayliu, TheBlackSister, gstoeckert, Sigee90, Thestral seer, LizzieLovesErik, serene11, sugarslave, and mangamichelle12 for giving reviews, or adding the fic as a fav or putting it on alert. _

_Many thanks to EriksTrueAngel for the beta read!_

**REALIZATION**

Silence. Once again I found myself trapped in troubling silence. And darkness. The candle Christine lit a few hours ago had burnt out leaving the room cloaked in the blackness I used to find so comforting. There was no sound in the room, not even from Christine, for I have known for a long time that she is a quiet sleeper. When she stayed with me previously, I often had to check on her while she slept to make certain she still lived. Now, with her small body pressed against mine, I could feel the slight movement of her chest as she breathes in and out. Yet she made no sound. And in this silence, in this darkness, my thoughts were left to torture and plague me.

Thoughts of Christine... and how I had ruined her.

No matter what transpired this night, no matter how our relationship had changed, the facts remained the same. She encompasses everything that is light and beauty. She thrives in the sunlight and should be worshiped for her perfection. I, on the other hand, am the living personification of darkness and horror. I belong in the shadows, out of sight, no more than a mere haunting presence. Christine's youth and innocence are the polar opposites of my aged transgressions. We may be proof that opposites attract, but never has that axiom been proved to lead to fulfillment and joy. Momentary intimacies aside, I know I have brought Christine nothing but pain and anguish.

It could have been a different story, had I left her alone. The story could simply have been of a man who worshiped the voice of an Angel from a far. She would have lived her happy life in the sun while he praised every note she sang from the darkness of his ungrounded world. But no, that wasn't the story, was it? I had to perfect her tone. I had to meddle.

It could have been the story of a prima donna soprano who had been trained by an unknown but talented vocal instructor who wished to remain anonymous. She could have risen to that status without too much interference from her teacher. But no, I had to threaten the opera managers and steal Christine away.

It could have been a story where the skillful soprano returned from the company of her unseen instructor to continue her career on the stage. She would have traveled the world performing for audiences taken in by her beauty and her voice as well as the mysterious tale of her musical education. And she would have eventually married her wealthy, handsome Viscount. She would have become a mother. She would have grown old in her happy life surrounded by a happy family. But no, my jealousy and trickery damaged her mind too severely.

The story had changed into a tale nearly unimaginable. Our story, which should have come to an ending when she left me to marry that foppish Viscount, had magically been given a respite this night. We'd reached the thrilling climax, and now the page had turned, ending that chapter. We would pass through a slight d'animaux until we reached the tragic conclusion. It would have to be a tragic ending, of course. No story with a hideously deformed main character could end any other way. It would be powerful and emotional, but tragic none-the-less.

I'd done this to her. I'd altered the story too much. I'd created this catastrophe. I'd changed her. I'd ruined her. And she would soon come to realize that.

The way I saw it, I had two options. I could leave it alone. Christine would stay with me, loving me despite the darkness and horror that would come. I would continue to weaken until I would eventually die. It wouldn't take long, of that I was certain. A few months possibly, but I would die eventually. Christine would be left alone to face a world that would most certainly shun her for her choice to love me. She would be labeled a harlot, and her morals would be tarnished beyond repair. No one – no _man_ – would ever want her. The idea of another man touching her was repellant to me, but I am not so blind to see that a woman left alone in the world without the support of a man would soon grow penniless and desperate out of hunger and need. No decent man would take her on as a wife. However, there are worldly men who might take her on as a mistress. I had watched young women fight against the suggestion of selling their bodies until they were too hungry to resist. I would not allow that for Christine. Which meant that Christine could not stay with me.

The alternative was that she had to leave me. The last thing I wanted was to be without her, but spending my final days alone was a lesser evil than spending them in her arms and leaving her behind to face the unforgiving masses. She would have to leave me. _Have_ to. She'd only been gone from the world less than a day. If she returned, there might be some hope to save her from disgrace. But she would have to leave right away, and therein was the difficulty. After the vows she had spoken and how eagerly she had given her body to me, I highly doubted she would leave me without an argument. I had to make her see the clear logic behind the reason or she would never agree to the terms. More to the point, I had to provide a substantial reason for her to leave.

Even if it were a lie.

I was very good at lies. They have been at the foundation of my existence from nearly the onset of my wretched life. It would only make sense for my death to be constructed upon a lie as well. For that was what I knew had to be done in order for her to leave me. I would have to die. The purity of her love would bind her to me as long as there was breath in my lungs. That was what she had promised – to love me all the days of my life. She made that promise thinking my life would only last a few more months, yet my life would only last a few more hours. I would at least give myself a few more hours with her. I'm too selfish a creature to end it now and never hear her sweet voice again – never kiss her perfect mouth again.

I was also selfish in how the death would be achieved. I didn't want it to be painful. Nor did I want it to be gruesome! If my plan worked correctly, Christine would be awake and aware for my passing. My death would need to be gentle for her sake. I had scarred her so deeply as it was. There was no need to drive home the point with a horrific death scene. If I slipped into death the way one slips into sleep, she might not be left as traumatized as I feared.

It could be done. It could be done rather simply. I had the ability. The little vial of potion that would invite death was currently sitting on the far bureau. I'd placed it there believing I would have to use it to keep Nadir away. It never crossed my mind that Christine would be witness to its effects. My collection of potions included several that would steal my life away, but I'd never used any before. There were so many other more interesting and worthy methods of murder, in my humble opinion. I preferred theatrics and games to the ease and simplicity of poison. Yet in this instance, it would work perfectly.

The challenge was slipping away from Christine without disturbing her sleep. Testing my ghost-like abilities, I carefully eased away from the warmth of her lithe body. Christine continued to sleep peacefully, unaware of the tragic situation that would soon befall her. She made no fuss and didn't stir. Quickly, not wanting to be away from her longer than absolutely necessary, I found the chosen vial and drank down its contents. The liquid tasted of sour berries and burned my dry throat. Had I consumed it unaware of its true nature, I would have assumed it was an old fruited wine that had fermented poorly. I swallowed it down and wiped any moisture from my deformed mouth. Then, I returned to Christine's side as carefully as I had left her. Only when my body was once again positioned next to her did Christine shift to fit more comfortably against me.

Then in the darkness, in the silence, I waited for her to awaken.


	11. Desolation

_AN: We've reached the end of the journey... for now. I may revisit this world some day. Just don't hate me at the end of this, please!_

_Thanks go to Erik's Angel Forever, my-echo, Dana, Samantha Michaelis, EMCLucky13, Brunette1995, nadaj, kpmindc, and XwitchlightX for their reviews, follows, and favs. _

_And many many thanks to EriksTrueAngel for the beta read once more! _

**Desolation**

The change in Christine's breathing pattern alerted me that she was waking up. She shifted closer to me and sighed softly, lost in a happy dream that was quickly fading. Her breath was warm against my cold skin. As she moved, she unknowingly snaked one of her legs up and over one of mine. Having been introduced to the sensuality of love-making, Christine's hips moved forward involuntarily, reflecting the natural desire to be joined intimately with a lover. My heart thudded rapidly at the implication despite the fact that I knew such a union was beyond all possibility.

Her eyes fluttered open, and I was met with the clear blue that had haunted my dreams for so long. She smiled a woman's smile, exposing her erotic thoughts and the newness of her sexual knowledge. Echoing those thoughts, her hand flitted lovingly over my bony chest sending shivers through my body. She planted a kiss right beside one of my nipples bringing me to the brink of heart ache.

I knew what she wanted. Oh, how I wanted it, too! Yet alas, the time for dreams had past.

"Christine…"

She hummed in response and again kissed the spot she had become fascinated with.

"My dear…" My words caught in my throat and I coughed mightily. Spasms shook my failing body, and I did nothing to prevent Christine from feeling them.

"Erik!" Her eyes went wide with worry. "What's the matter, love?" She sat up and tried to sooth away the tremors that plagued me, but to no avail.

I shook my head to stop her, but she wouldn't be detoured.

"What can I do to help you?"

My coughing fit calmed and I regained the power of speech. "Nothing," my voice cracked. "There isn't anything that can be done."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that we've come to the end." I coughed a few more times, less violently than before. Then I met her wild, worried eyes.

"The end...? Of what?"

Her troubled gaze locked with mine. Her eyes searched my wretched face for the answer she wanted. All I could offer her was the answer she feared. "I'm dying, Christine."

"You mean... in a while," she clarified. "You mean to say that you are ill and will die eventually... after a while."

"Christine..."

"You can't possibly mean to say that... that... that this..."

"My love..."

Our eyes met again as she pondered the situation. After several tortuous moments of silence she thundered out her response.

"NO!" She sat up fully now, holding the sheet to her bare bosom out of modesty. "NO! No, no, no, no! NO! Don't you dare leave me! Don't you dare!" The tears swimming in her eyes nearly destroyed me.

"It can't be helped, my dear."

"NO!" she sobbed and pounded her fist against the mattress. "I refuse to surrender so easily! How can _you_ even surrender without fighting this! You have potions, medicine, tonics. You have power... magic! I _know_ you do! You can stop this. Fix this! You must!"

I tried to stop her flailing arms and calm her down, but my strength had all but left me.

"I won't accept this. I can't!" Her tears fell freely now as a miserable sob broke from her throat. "I won't let you! I won't let you die! Please, Erik!" She collapsed against me, pulling me to her, holding on to me as if her arms could bind me to this earth. The moisture of her tears on my bare, boney chest only deepened my own grief over what I was doing to her.

I tenderly stroked her back, allowing myself the pleasure of touching her smooth, flawless skin for what would be the last time. Another cough threatened to surface from my lungs, but I fought against it in the desperate need to linger in her embrace. She felt me shudder and rose up to look down into my anguished face.

"What can I do to help you?" she pleaded.

"Oh, my sweet, your presence here is help enough."

"There must be something that can be done," she pleaded. "You were fine a few hours ago!"

"Christine, I haven't been _fine_ for a long while now." My voice was scratchy and unfamiliar. I didn't like the sound of it at all. I had expected the poison to leave me weakened, but I hadn't expected it to rob me of my voice so suddenly. I would have to say what needed to be said quickly or else I wouldn't have the opportunity to make my plan known to her.

"But I have to do _some_thing! Please!" The tears that streaked her angelic face pierced my slowing heart.

"There is… something… I need you to do." I muttered.

"Anything! Anything!" Her excitement over having an occupation was touching, but I knew she would resist once she heard my request.

"The Viscount." I avoided using his name, for it wasn't welcome within the intimacy of this chamber. "You must marry him."

Her reaction was rather ironic given the situation. Here was this beautiful woman lying naked in a bed with the most horribly disfigured and ugly man on Earth. She had just been told to marry a handsome, rich Viscount. The way she paled and the look of horror on her face should have been intended for the monster looking up at her, but instead it came in reference to the ideal man from whom she had run away.

"I _can'_t. Erik, how can you even—"

"You can," I breathed. "You _must_."

She shook her tousled head in disagreement. "I am _your_ wife. I cannot marry another!"

"And in a few hours… moments really… you will be my widow."

She paled even further at having the reality of the situation stated so matter-of-factly. She took a few short breaths and muttered, "Then I will stay your widow and never love another."

"Christine," I sighed, and forced myself to say the words I had been dreading for hours now. "You _do_ love him. I know you do."

The lump she swallowed was evidence of the truth of the statement. "But I love you more!"

My twisted mouth curved up in the only smile it could manage. "I know. However, that love has left you in a difficult situation that must be amended."

She looked down at me with confusion.

"My love, we live in a merciless world." My voice was small and hoarse, but I pushed through the pain to make certain she understood what faced her in the future if she did not obey my wishes. "When you return to the surface after having been mysteriously missing for the night, suspicions will be aroused and gossip will follow. If you do not marry the Viscount, the public will assume you have been ruined in some way. You won't be welcomed in polite society. You will become an outcast. You will be left alone to struggle for survival. You won't sing. You won't shine."

She blinked in sudden understanding tinged with fear. I allowed her to contemplate the situation for several long, silent moments. When she finally spoke, she did so with difficulty. "What if… he won't… have me?"

It was an honest concern, one that even I had considered. However, the Viscount knew as well as I did that public appearance is everything. Were he to lose his fiancé – his beautiful, young, devoted fiancé – to a monster such as the Opera Ghost, he would be ruined right along with Christine. The public would question his ability to hold on to and please a woman if it were ever known she chose a deformed monstrosity over the handsome, rich bachelor. No, the Viscount would take her back. More so, he'd relish the fact that when it was all said and done, she would spend her life with him while I rotted away in misery.

It made my stomach churn, but there was nothing else that could be done.

"He loves you," I said, though I had to fight back the bile rising in my throat. "He will take you back."

She sighed again, a deep, mournful sigh that echoed the remorse present in her eyes. "I don't know how I can live without you."

"You will. You must." The command came very easily to me, for I'd once had such power over her. Every last fiber of my strength was put into that single command. "You must marry him."

Crumbling in defeat, Christine wept against my too thin chest. Stealing the opportunity to stroke her glorious mane of hair one last time, I murmured, "You will live a full life. Your days will be filled with sunshine and beauty. You will sing, and through your music… I will live on with you."

The air seemed thick, heavy. It was difficult to breathe. For the first time since I'd made this fateful decision, I was afraid of my choice. Yet the choice could not be undone. I'd set a course in motion and I had to see it through to the very end. For Christine's sake. This was my gift to her, sick and twisted as it may be.

My heart was racing, hammering away in an increasing rhythm, hurrying toward the end. If I could have, I would have made time itself bend to my will so that I would have a few more hours, a few more minutes… seconds with her, but I wasn't that strong. In fact, my strength was gone. I hadn't even strength enough to wrap my arms around my Angel. As she clawed and pawed at me, holding me close, pulling me against her, all I could manage was the slight shift of my calloused fingers against her delicate skin.

Oh, the agony! This was the true definition of pain. To be wanted and want in return… but to be denied the glory of the bodily union because of your own choices. It had been foolish assume I wouldn't want her at the close of life. I wanted to kiss her. To make love to her. But time had run out.

She must have sensed my desperation to meld with her once final time, for she rose up to lock her gaze to mine. She smiled. And my heart broke apart. Her heavenly blue eyes, sparkling with tears, were the last thing I saw as I slipped into Hell.

* * *

Hours later, after the wounded girl had somehow managed to walk out of the chamber… after the Viscount had wrapped his arms around her and led her away from this nightmare… Nadir stood beside the bed and contemplated his next move.

Shifting his gaze between the corpse-life figure in the bed and the tray of potions he'd carried into the room, he wondered if it wouldn't be better to leave well enough alone. A lifetime of watching and learning and fearing forced his hand to open the blue vile and drip its contents into Erik's still and lifeless mouth.

The plan had been set in place decades ago, before Christine, before Don Juan. It was meant to keep Erik safe should his presence ever be discovered and the threat of imprisonment even presented itself. Nadir was certain Erik had implemented the plan now even though the situation in which it was being used was vastly different from the initial intention.

Thus, it came as no surprise to Nadir when Erik's eyes slowly, yet with great difficulty, slid open.

"She's gone." It was a statement, not a question.

"The Viscount escorted her home."

Those eyes that had always held such sadness folded shut once more. "Leave me."


End file.
